One of Them
by izumi-chan7475
Summary: Ebony tried everything to get off the streets. Some plans failed completely, others lasted a while then fell apart. Now, she has given up, wandering aimlessly and fending for herself until she is found in the garden of a certain boy and his grandparents... Is this finally where Ebony truly belongs? Rated T for sad themes and death.
1. Prologue

I walk along the streets of London, shivering in my tattered clothes. At this point, I am regretting cutting my hair short like a boy's. I had cut it only half a year ago, but it it still to my chin. My hair used to be long, wild, and warm, but I didn't like taking care of it. I really didn't care about it, anyway. All I cared about was getting food and shelter.

A freezing wind goes straight through my thin garb and I wrap my bony arms around my chest. What wouldn't I give for a layer of fat!

As I walk alone, I can't help thinking how I had gotten here. No trace of parents, no memory of any at all. I had spent 9 years or so of my life in an orphanage, but they got so desperate to sell me off that I went 5 pence to an abusive family. I'd ended up running away a little less than a year after my arrival there and attempted to join various gangs of thieves. The effort was useless, for no one wanted a scrawny little girl in their gang of boys and men.

That's what made me decide to cut my hair. I'd never looked extremely feminine, and shorter hair could help with that image. I decided that I would try to become a pickpocket and join the gang of Fagin, the feared old Jew who kept a legion of sneaky boys to steal him riches. They were perhaps the most successful and large gang in London, and if I couldn't make it in there, I had no chance anywhere else, even if I _was _disguised as a boy. So, I ended up changing my name from Ebony (no idea what my real last name was, and I never dared to take on that of my abusive parents) to Edward.

Well, let's just say that bloody plan backfired. All went well at first, and Fagin's gang told me to consider myself one of them. I soon learned the art of pickpocketing, which turned out to be a thoroughly useful skill. Everyone believed I was a boy, and no one had even thought of me being a cross dresser. Everyone except for the Dodger.

One of the most experienced boys in the gang, more namely the leader, Jack Dawkins (preferably the Artful Dodger) saw right through my mask. I believe he was 14 or 15 years old, my age or a year older. He had this crazy smile and could get away with anything, and everyone, including myself, looked up to him. It was apparent to me that he knew my secret, for the glances he shot me sometimes were untrustworthy yet knowing.

I had been a member of the gang for about 5 months when he finally confronted me. It was just as we were returning from our daily rounds in the marketplace, and Dodger told the rest of the gang to go on ahead and that we would catch up later. This thoroughly confused me. I hadn't even thought of my true identity for a while and was so used to being called Edward.

Sure enough, Dodge finally confessed that he had known that I was a girl. I asked how, fully admitting the façade, and he replied that it was obvious in my mannerisms; the way I put on my shoes, the way I threw a ball while playing catch, how I breathed when I was sleeping. That last one scared me a bit.

I apologized to him, begging to keep my secret kept. I could tell he wanted me to stay but he told me I could not. Being an orphan, I never knew much about love, but I could tell that Dodge cared for me, just as he could tell that I wasn't really Edward, but Ebony. He wanted to have this all sorted out with Fagin, but I wouldn't return to the house now that the secret was out. Without warning, I bid the Dodger a brisk goodbye and ran off towards nowhere, not bothering to even say goodbye to the rest of my dysfunctional yet amazing family.

Now here I am, roaming the empty streets alone. If only Dodge were here to help me…

_No! _I need to stop thinking about him. I'm on my own now; I made the choice to leave. My heart aches whenever I think of the gang and how much they loved me, and something inside tells me that they would have let me stay, even if I am a girl. Bet and Nancy always visited us, and it was completely normal. Did I make the wrong decision?

I ponder the question for a long time. Living alone on the streets gives you lots of time to think. Before I know it, I am crossing the London bridge. Rain begins to splash my face with tiny drops then gradually flows in heavy sheets. This is closest to a wash I've gotten in a long time. I'm halfway across the bridge when I notice a mauve figure slumped on the cobblestone. Running now, I reach the shape and bend over it, my vision obscured by the blinding rain.

It's a woman. I check her breathing; nothing. Pulse; not there. I take in a sharp breath. She's dead! I roll the body over so that I can see her face and I gasp. _Nancy!_

There are bruises around her neck, which means that she was indeed murdered. Who in hell could have done it? Could it have been… Bill? My breathing quickens; I don't want to be seen like this, for someone could suspect me the murderer. I don't want t believe Bill did this either, but this is exactly something he would do.

A gale-force wind nearly blows me over and sends a deep chill into my bones. My teeth chatter at the cold and the eeriness of the situation I am in. Even though she's dead, Nancy's lucky. She has her long, silky red dress to keep her warm…

I look around frantically to make sure no one is near or watching me before I carry out my sudden impulse. I'm too freezing to let this opportunity slip by; if I don't take it, I'll be dead from hypothermia by morning.

I sprint away, off the other end of the bridge, clutching my new skirts in my hands so I don't trip over them. Guilt is gnawing at me, but I keep telling myself that it's okay. I need this clothing and my fallen friend doesn't.


	2. Dodger's Thoughts

When I first saw him on the street, my heart jumped into my throat. For an instant, I thought she had come back.

No, it wasn't Ebony. Oliver was a boy, and I can always tell. He looked almost exactly like her, only his mannerisms were slightly more masculine and his voice was naturally deeper, even for a runt like him. I swear the two could have been siblings. They had the same hair, eyes, smile, frame, and nose. In this world, it's possible that they _are _related.

Ebony was definitely no man, but she'd fooled all of the other boys, as far as I know. She was impressive and definitely had the makings of a great pickpocket. I wanted to tell her she could stay, but I couldn't. The others couldn't find out. I, of course, told Fagin, and even he was surprised (not really angry, actually). With his experience, I don't know how he hadn't figured her out sooner. I guess she was really convincing. I really did want her to stay, but it would have been hard for the others to get used to. We'd never had a girl in the gang before, and she'd already been with us for almost half a year. Even if she was accepted, I wouldn't want her to stay. Fagin and I had to come up with a story of how Ebony had finally found a family to live with to tell the others. It shocked them all, but we've moved on. I've moved on. Sort of.

I wonder where she's run off to. I find myself worrying about the girl often, even though she has been gone for a month. She could be dead, for all I know. Oliver reminded me so much of her, and now he's gone, too. Finally gotten himself a family (as if we weren't family enough! Hmph.). I guess that's the kind of life he deserves, anyway, being such a scrawny, helpless child. I loved him like a brother, even though I'd only known him for a short time.

I think Oliver and Ebony would get along well.


	3. Lost and Found

I trudge in the faint light of the city, sopping wet from the continuous rain and muddy streets. Nancy's dress has kept me warm enough, but it feels like the water is soaking into my bones. The only thing I want now is to sleep, to find a comfortable place, perhaps find Dodge and…

_Stop thinking about him!_ I scold myself. It's too late to go back, and they'll never accept me anyway. I don't know why I keep thinking about Dodger, even a month after I left the thieves. I need to move on from my stint with them.

An idea finally comes to mind on where to stay the night (or whatever remained of it). I look up and down the old English street, trying to determine which houses were currently unoccupied, which is difficult at night since everyone is actually asleep. Oh well, I'll just have to risk it.

There are some lights on in a few of the houses and I can hear men shouting. At least I know some houses I can rule out. No, I'm not actually going to _invade_ a house. I'll just find a garden I can settle down in until dawn and work from there.

After trekking around the city for which seemed like forever, I decide that it was too risky to settle here, even for only a few hours. Just as I reach the edge of the city, the tall houses and apartment buildings thin out and I can see a small cottage through the rain. There are no lights on and it almost seems vacant, not that I really care anymore. I take this chance and run towards the house, my holey shoes splashing in the musty rain puddles.

The cottage has a large garden with plenty of tall arbor trees that provide decent enough shelter from the rain. Luckily it isn't a thunderstorm… I've heard horror storied about people standing under trees during thunderstorms and getting struck by lightning.

The garden is neatly plotted and coordinated, beautiful blooms and grasses galore. I won't have enough time to view their splendor in the morning though, for I must leave before anyone wakes up. The wonderfully kept landscaping is a sure sign that the cottage isn't vacant.

I settle down under a tree, squeezing some of the rain water from my hair. The dress is ruined, but it still provides more benefits than my old rags I had been wearing earlier. I lie down among the grasses, the ground uncomfortably squishy, and close my eyes, trying to get at least a few heartbeats of sleep. I'm used to sleeping outside, but I'm afraid the mushy ground will swallow me in my sleep.

I wake up to the sound of something falling beside me. I bolt upright, prepared to run as fast as my toothpick legs with take me.

"Who are you?" I hear a young. male voice say. I turn around and almost jump a mile high. What I see is… He looks like me, exactly like me. Is he me? For a second I think I'm having an out-of-body experience.

"W-who are _you?_" I stutter, crawling back a few paces. I silently curse myself for sleeping in past dawn. The sun is almost midway across the sky by now.

"I'm Oliver," the boy says, standing up and offering me his hand. "Oliver Twist,"

I take his hand awkwardly and stand up groggily. Oliver stands almost exactly my height, which is unusually short. He looks about my age, perhaps a year or two younger.

"And you are…?" he asks me warily, letting go of my hand.

I sigh. "Ebony. And I don't have a last name."

"Oh," Oliver says, giving me a slight smile. "I like that name, Ebony." He looks at my muddy red dress and choppy blonde hair, big blue eyes widening. "Did you spend the night in the garden? You look…"

"Terrible, I know," I finish. "Listen, I really need to-"

"Go?" he interjects. I raise an eyebrow at the mental synchronization. "Are you sure? You don't look like you have anywhere to go to."

I roll my eyes. This Oliver kid's dressed up in a tuxedo shirt and slacks, he probably never knew what it was like to not have anywhere to go. "No, I do have somewhere to go. If you'll excuse me…" I try to walk past him but he blocks my path.

"Where, then?" he asks sincerely. Curious little bugger.

"Just…"

"I know you don't have anywhere to go," Oliver lowered his voice. "Trust me." he looks at his shoes (recently shined, of course…). Taking my hand again and walking towards the house, he says, "Now, I'm going to get you acquainted with my family."

"W-what?" I stammer, stopping in my tracks. "But… but I'm…"

"Don't worry." Oliver smiles. "They're very understanding."


	4. Oliver's Thoughts

"Oliver, you may go tend the garden now," my grandmother told me. _Finally! _I thought. I happily obliged and ran out the back door, smiling at the warm yellow sunshine. It really was nice to live in a proper home and not have to worry about when my next meal would be. My new life gave me time to really enjoy some of the world's splendor. I had been living with my long-lost family members for only a day or two, but I was already getting used to it.

I walked among the rows of tulips and poppies that were closest to the cottage, enjoying the company of elegant flowers. With a spring in my step, I found and filled the tin watering can and set off to water the flowers. Some may consider it a chore but I always enjoyed the task.

I skipped around the tall trees, having a great time until my right foot thumped against something, causing me to trip and fall forward. I crashed to the ground before I could yell out and the watering can flew from my hands into a nearby bush. _Oops. _

I turned around to see what I had tripped over and saw… _Myself, _staring straight at me. After a few moments I realized that I wasn't looking at myself, but a girl who shared almost my exact likeness. She looked like she had just woken up underneath the tree, disheveled and frightened. I must have tripped over her.

I stood up, offered the girl my hand, and asked who she was. I was startled by how much she resembled me. Putting that thought to the back of my mind, I looked over the girl who was trespassing in the garden. Her dirty hair was short and blonde, honey brown like mine. She had the same blue eyes as I did, too. The reddish dress she wore was misshapen, caked in mud, and at least four sizes too large. I recognized it almost instantly as Nancy's gown, almost asking the girl- her name was Ebony- why she had it. For once, I held my tongue on the subject.

Ebony told me that she had to leave after I helped her up off the ground. This was an obvious lie, for no one with a home could spend a rainy night asleep in a random garden. I'd had enough experience with being homeless in my life to know when someone is desperate.

So, having no other option, I welcomed my look-alike into the house, forgetting about watering the flowers. I figured they didn't need it, anyway, since it had rained so hard the night before. Little did I know that Ebony would find to and have so much in common…


	5. Twist Cottage

**Chapter 5: Twist Cottage**

As Oliver leads me into the house, all of my instincts tell me to run for it. All experiences I've had with... Stationary citizens... Have been terrible. They get really stingy when you steal their money. Well, maybe it's because they actually worked to earn it, but... Hmph. I just don't get along well with rich people, and I can tell by the state of their house that this family is wealthy. Also, this preppy Oliver boy has his hair combed back neatly and is wearing clean, luxury clothing. The little bugger, even though he's about as skinny as myself, must have spent his entire life sipping tea and eatin' crumpets with his folks. Makes me sick.

Just as Oliver is about to pull open the back door, he turns to me and says, "Don't worry, Ebony. I grew up in an orphanage and was only just adopted by my long-lost grandparents, so It's safe to say I know what you're going through. How old are you, anyway?"

I'm taken by surprise at this, silently cursing myself for assuming that Oliver had lived comfortably his entire life. I've always been one to judge too quickly.

"Fourteen," I reply, staring at the ground. "and you?"

"I've just turned thirteen." Oliver tells me. "Now, c'mon!" he throws open the wooden door, racing inside the house. "Grandmother! Grandfather! I've found a girl in the garden!"

I step inside warily, nervously anticipating the reaction I will receive. I know this is not a good idea. The back door leads straight into the kitchen, which is neat and well kept. The dirty dishes in the basin signify that Oliver's family had just finished breakfast. After a few moments, I hear pair of footsteps thrumming down the wooden staircase.

"What?" I hear a woman yell from the foyer. "Oliver, darling, please speak up. And your grandfather is at the market right now."The boy then grabs me by the wrist again and drags me into the hallway.

"See?" he says as we enter the foyer. The wooden banister is freshly polished and an older woman, the same one who yelled to Oliver, is standing at the bottom of the staircase. "I found her asleep under one of the trees outside!" he shoves me forward.

Mrs. Twist's (I expect that to be her title)'s eyes widen and her expression reminds me of her grandson's when he found me in the garden. She runs over to me and grabs my hands and I jump a little.

"Oh! Well, this is a surprise." she says quietly, then turning to Oliver. "Oliver, who exactly gave you permission to bring her into the house?" she snaps, then turns to me again. "Oh, but don't you worry, dear. It's not your fault. Do you have any parents? Oh, look at you, of course you don't! Come on, let's get you fixed up, then we can talk." Oliver's grandmother then drags me up the staircase, chirping on about the treatment of children these days. I shoot an alarmed glance down at Oliver, who is standing at the base of the stairs. He gives me an awkward smile.

It takes Mrs. Twist an hour or so to rinse the mud and dirt out of my hair and off of me. The nosy lady kept making comments on how much I looked like a boy with my stick-straight build and that I was basically a female version of her grandson. Despite the embarrassment, I am thankful towards the woman for fixing me up and loaning me an old casual dress. She attempts to salvage the mauve dress by washing it, but it is tattered and stained beyond repair.

"Thank you, Mrs. Twist," I say to her as we descend the wooden staircase. she laughs at me and my face turns red.

"Is that what Oliver told you to call me?" she chuckles. "The silly boy came up with that surname by himself and just won't let go of it! You can call me Mrs. Bedwin , dear."

"Oh, alright," I say. We reach the ground floor of the cottage and find Oliver in the parlor on the sofa, wistfully staring out the window at a blooming cherry tree.

"There you are!" he exclaims and jumps off the seat, running at his grandmother and hugging her. "That took you forever!" he then turns to me and smiles, looking me over. "You look nice, Ebony."

"I think she looks a lot like you, Oliver," Mrs. Bedwin tells him. "Now, both of you, have a seat and I'll make us some tea." she walks into the kitchen and leaves us alone. Oliver walks back to the sofa and sits, and I follow. We stare out at the garden for a while, then the younger boy breaks the silence.

"Where did you come from, Ebony?" he asks me softly. "I feel like there's a lot I don't know." I laugh. He's correct.

"Well, where do I start? I don't remember either of my parents and I spent most of my life in an orphanage-"

"Oh, me too!" Oliver interrupts, his big blue eyes growing large. "But...I don't remember you... And I remember everyone."

"There are two orphanages in London. One is on the North side, the other South. I was in the Southern orphanage." I clarify.

"I guess I was in the Northern one, then," The younger boy says. "Were you ever adopted? Where did you go after the orphanage?"

"Well, yes, I was given away by the orphanage..."

"Given away?!" Oliver jumps. "I was SOLD to my first 'family'! At least the folks at my orphanage thought I was worth something..."

"And that's not all. The man and woman I was sold to barely fed me, forced me to sleep in the basement, hit me whenever I did something wrong..."

"I had to sleep in the basement, too! The family I was sold to owned a funeral parlor, and they couldn't care less about me!" Oliver adds.

"Wow," I reply. "So, I spent almost a year with this family until I couldn't take it anymore, then ran away and lived on the streets for a long, long time. After a while, I decided that I needed to join some kind of gang just so I wouldn't be alone on the streets. I tried joining various ones, but it was completely useless since none of them accepted girls into their ranks..." I notice Oliver look away from me at the mention of gangs. "After it seemed that all hope was lost, I finally decided to cut my hair short, get an old shirt and pants to replace the dress I had, and pretend to be a boy. It worked for a while- I joined a gang of pickpocketing thieves-" Oliver snaps his head back up to look at me. "What?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I was in a pickpocket gang for two days, recently." he whispered. "Who was your gang led by? I might know him."

"Well, we all looked up to an older man named Fagin, and the real leader of the gang called himself 'The Artful Dodger'." I replied matter-of-factly.

Oliver gulped and looked out the window, setting his chin on the sill.

"Oh. Well, funny thing, those guys..."


	6. Epilogue: A Decision

It has been a week since my meeting with Oliver and his family. The sun is out and bright in London, I am wearing a nice new blur petticoat, and we are all heading into town to get me formally adopted.

The past week has been nice, and I found out that Oliver's "grandmother" really isn't his grandmother after all. She is the housemaid of Mr. Brownlow, Oliver's grandfather, and Oliver just addressed her as his kin. Interesting boy.

Living with this family has been more than anything I could have imagined; three meals a day, clean dresses, a nice roof over my head. The past week has been the richest of my life so far.

Mrs. Bedwin is a bit of a nag, but I can deal with that. Oliver and I, mostly I, have issues with etiquette. I've had to endure lectures about table manners and the like.

Mr. Brownlow, Oliver's grandfather, insists that I am indeed Oliver's biological sister. We share many physical and personality traits and we have been, as stated, mistaken for one another quite often.

Oliver himself is a delightful character and I do enjoy his company. He has an appreciation of the world that no former orphan could, which amazes me. My "brother", I suppose, is the most loving person I have ever met.

It turns out that Oliver did in fact live with Fagin's gang for two days until he was discovered to have wealthy family members. He was then transported to them (I don't know how- he wouldn't tell me) the same night I had slept in the garden.

My brother told me stories of his short time in the pickpocket gang and how surprisingly friendly they were, especially Dodger. Even though Oliver had only spent a short time with them, we both had many good and some bad experiences there.

Mr. Brownlow , Oliver and I ride into town in a carriage, which is exciting for both me and Oliver. We're both so used to transportation on foot that this seems like royal treatment.

As soon as we reach downtown London, the carriage drops us off a few blocks from the registration office and Mr. Brownlow pays the driver. All three of us know these streets like the backs of our hands, so we will be home before we know it.

Oliver holds my hand as we stroll down the cobblestone streets. The mid-morning traffic is as thick as it gets, pedestrians hurrying to work, salespeople advertising their goods, beggars collecting spare change. I've begged before and it isn't as rewarding as it seems- Londoners can be extremely selfish.

Oliver's family isn't selfish, though, but they do have high status. I still haven't gotten used to sleeping in a bed, never mind a plushy one that is mine and mine alone. I don't know if I'll be able to fully adjust any time soon.

We're almost to the registration centre when Oliver turns around swiftly, turning his pockets inside out. "My wallet's been stolen!" he exclaims, only loud enough for me and grandfather to hear. Yes, Oliver has his own wallet. If you haven't been paying attention to the story, he comes from a rich family.

I look around frantically, trying to spot the thief that stole my brother's money. My heart skips a beat when

I realise that it is about the time that Dodger and the thieves make their rounds, but I tell myself that there are hundreds of pickpockets in London. Also, no one from Fagin's gang would steal from Oliver, right?

Nope. Wrong. A man in a patchy coat is running away from us in the direction of the gang's base. He even has Oliver's wallet in plain sight.

"Hold on," I tell my brother and run ahead, chasing after the thief. I've had lots of experience running from and chasing people in my years, so it doesn't take much effort to catch up to him. Just as he rounds a corner, I impulsively jump at the man and barrel him over. "Oof!" He grunts and hits the ground with a loud smack. I land on my feet, recognising his voice instantly. It's none other than James Dawkins himself, the Artful Dodger. Damn it.

"Hey! What the bloody hell are ye doin'?" Dodge yells. Before he can get up I snatch Oliver's wallet from his outstretched hand and shove it down the front of my dress. Hey, it's all I can do to prevent the money from being stolen again. I know from experience than Dodge will steal something back as many times as he needs to.

He stands up, coughing. "What in the- aw, hell." The Dodger notices that I'm no man. "Beaten by a-" his eyes widen and his classic crooked smile spreads across his face. "Edw- Ebony!" I raise an eyebrow at his slip up with my alias. "You're back! And... You actually look like a girl!" Pause. "A... A rich girl... Uh, you stole that dress, right?"

"No, in fact... I... I actually have a family now, Dodge. And I believe you have stolen my brother's wallet."

"Oh, uh... You can have that back, then..." Dodger trails off and blushes.

"I've already gotten it." I say. "But I just can't believe that you would steal from poor little Oliver and..."

"Wait a bloody second. Oliver? As in... Oliver Twist?" Dodge cuts me off. "Your... Brother?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Well tha' explains a LOT!" Dodge laughs but I don't. We both jump and turn around as we hear the yelling of men and Dodger spits curses under his breath. "Coppers!" He hisses. "C'mon!" He grabs me by the arm and we sprint away, looking over our shoulders. I see the police round the corner, pointing at us and running in our direction.

"Dodge, hurry." I hiss. "They see us. Where exactly are we going?"

"No idea." The Dodger says with a nervous laugh. We avoid the pedestrian traffic by staying in the back streets. "Hey, look!" He points to a line of trees to our right. "Let's try and lose 'em." We run as fast as our legs can take us into the woods, smashing through grasses and branches. My new dress snags and tears but I don't care at this point.

We stop for a few seconds and listen. The cops are still heading this way, and the noise we've been making hasn't helped.

"Keep going!" Dodge hisses and we press on deeper into the trees. My dress is a goner and I hope it doesn't leave blue trails of torn fabric in the brambles.

We come across a clearing with a muddy pond in the centre. There's almost no way to escape, and we both know what our only hope is.

Dodge and I dive into the pond, trying not to create too much noise. It's almost 7 feet deep, which I'm thankful for. We wait for a while then come up to the surface.

The cops are gone, sent off course by our sudden disappearance. Dodger and I are covered in mud and water and I know Mrs. Bedwin will be furious with me.

"That was fun," Dodge laughs. I surprisingly agree. I go back on shore and sit down, staring at my old friend disapprovingly.

"I still can't believe you stole Oliver's money," I huff.

"I didn't know it was him. He looked so... High class."

I snort. "Alright. At least I've got it." I check to make sure the wallet is still in my dress. Fortunately it is, but it's soaked. "Hell, I can't believe the coppers got here so fast, after only one robbery..." I trail off at Dodge's awkward expression.

"Yeah, about that..." He scratches the back of his neck and opens up his jacket. It's lined with wallets galore, at least fifteen of them.

"Christ, Dodge!" I exclaim. "Did you get all of those today?"

"Yes, actually." He replies. "Fagin dared me to steal from-"

"Wait-FAGIN dared you?" I ask.

"Yeah. I thought it was weird, too. He actually came with me and the boys this time and picked out victims for us."

I narrow my eyes. Fagin was targeting Oliver on purpose.

Dodge finally comes ashore, shaking the disgusting water from his shoes and putting his hat back on his head. "Well then, Ebony, I guess this is where I leave ya." He offers me his hand and I take it, standing up.

"Wait... Are you sure?" I ask.

"Uh... You said you've got yeself a home now, remember? You've gotta get back to them and give little Oliver his wallet back."

"We need to do something first."

Dodge and I hightail it to Fagin's to ask him about the whole Oliver fiasco. I was indeed correct; Fagin had spotted me and Oliver in the square and wanted to see how we would react to being pickpocketed, especially me. It turns out that Fagin believed that I was worth being affiliated with his pickpockets and wanted to test me. He says that my quick thinking and attack skills have proven me worthy and wants me to join them once again.

"But, Fagin, I'm supposed to be adopted today. I can't live with a foot in both worlds."

"That's true. But what matters here is what you really want out of life."

I know what I want out of life. Just like Oliver, I want to have someone or some people care about me and be my loving family. But, unlike my brother, I want to live adventurously and have fun. I know exactly what I must do.

I return to Oliver his soggy wallet, which isn't ruined but is damaged by the water. He's glad to see me again, but the moment won't last. I've met up with my grandfather and my brother in the square, and I tell them that I am declining to be a member of their family. They have been kind to me and given me nothing but joy, but I have decided to live with Fagin and the gang from now on. Oliver doesn't want me to leave him, but I tell him that life isn't all fancy gowns and feasts. I would rather die young and have fun than live a hundred years and be miserable.

I bid my biological family a final goodbye and set off to meet Dodger and return to our home. I do indeed believe that Oliver is my biological brother, for we both have the same honey-coloured hair, blue eyes, nose, and desire for real love. But even we have our differences. Oliver prefers to live a comfortable, risk-free life while I prefer some adventure.

I've changed back into some ragged clothes from my old orphanage; no petticoats for me. Mrs. Bedwin will be stunned at my departure, too. When I reach the street in front of the pickpockets' house, Dodge is there waiting for me. We head inside and are greeted by a sea of boys, young and old, welcoming us.I think I've finally found where I really belong.

The End.


End file.
